


Just For A Moment

by Eleanorose123



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: ??? it's overlord you guys, Disembodiment, Emotional Abuse, Gen, Physical Abuse, Slight Cannibalism, Torture, robo gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9002149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleanorose123/pseuds/Eleanorose123
Summary: Fortress Maximus is dealing with horrid torture, but the pain he feels is nothing compared to fact he has to relive every moment in his mind over and over again...
Secret Santa gift for ambustusminor!





	

**Author's Note:**

> My Secret Santa gift for ambustusminor on tumblr! And also my first MTMTE fic (what a way to start).
> 
> They requested an AU in which Fort Max doesn't wake up from his coma, so I went with the idea of during his coma he had to relive his torture with Overlord over and over again. It's been a while since I've done a torture fic, and definitely the first time I've written proper Robo Gore, but I hope this could be enough angst for you, dear! 
> 
> Happy Holidays :D

It was only for a moment, but I can still feel the agonizing pain of having my arm be ripped out from its socket.

My prison was in chaos, and I was pinned down to this table in this vile room helpless to do anything about it. I have seen my share of interrogations, and inflicted my fair share of punishments on prisoners who don’t cooperate, but the actions this Decepticon took were…far from any form of logic. He seemed to be driven by nothing short of pure amusement as he took to disassembling my missing limb in front of me, the fluids and parts falling onto my torso.

“Honestly, there’s no need to panic now is there?” he scoffed at me. I didn’t even realize how my still functioning servos were rattling against their confines. “You’re already oh too painfully aware that a mere _body_ doesn’t make the Cybertronian, it’s their _spark_ , and I’m not touching yours am I?”

_Yet._ I added. Although admittedly it seemed with every passing cycle of his torture this Decepticon (who’s designation I’d love nothing more than to purge from my processor is coincidently being burned into it) grew farther from his goal of threatening my life to gain the information he needed, and moved towards the ambition of how much pain he can inflict on someone before their processor will break permanently. I’m determined to never let him find out.

He tosses my useless arm over his shoulder and moves around the table with his hands behind his back. Judging me, analysing me. I can only stare back at him, hoping my glare could purvey exactly how much rage I had in me rather than how much fear. As his servo dances across my still attached arm, my spark betrayed me and I grew to panic as he gripped my shoulder to the point of concaving.

“There’s such a simple pleasure in feeling armor cripple under your hands.” He mused, twisting my metal as if it were made of a weak fiber. “A defense mechanism that so many devote their trust into in hopes of survival and yet, with just the right amount force…” He pulled off my shoulder plating, wires and all, and my mouth opened in a silent scream. “It can become obsolete. Much like yourself, friend.”

Friend…how many of my allies have gone while I’m forced to endure this suffering? How many has this maniac’s own men slain, and how many are still fighting? Should they have fallen, I can only hope they went quickly. A fate in which the enemy will know nothing about once I’m through with them.

I must’ve appeared uninterested in my torture, because now I’m feeling each one of my servos been torn off individually while he tsks at me the way one would to a misbehaving sparkling.

“Keep that processor online when I’m talking to you, Maxie. I know you can hear me even through that thick helm of yours.”

He starts prodding at my faceplates with his servos…no wait. To my dismay he’s prodding me with my own torn off servos. I can’t feel them anymore, but there’s definitely a sense of horror that comes with seeing your own appendages perform actions you don’t tell them to.

There’s also a sense of horror that comes with having someone pull out one of your own optics and having your other one be forced to see it. My energon leaks down my trembling face, my pain receptors are numb, and I can only assume they’ve short circuited from overuse. He presses my optic to his lip for a moment before crunching into it and carrying on with his work with it hanging out of his mouth.

As his servos gouge through the empty socket of my optic, I think about every horrid thing I would inflict back to him had I the opportunity. The thought very short lived as I instead fought back the urge to purge my tanks as he cleaned his energon coated servos across my face and into my mouth. The taste of my own energon coating my glossa is almost as vile as the Decepticon smiling down at me.

So many people have told me that I would never know what life was like before there were labels like Decepticon and Autobot but it’s at this moment I decide I didn’t care. Even if I wasn’t forged during this spark forsaken war, there would still be Cybertronians (can I even call them that) out there as corrupt and horrid as this mech. There would always be cruelty among our race, not even exclusive to the Autobot-Decepticon sides, and I would be the one to set things in line. I would do what I’ve always done and be warden to everyone who’s ever done wrong.

Even when I escape this torture, I would still function to see to it.

I start to note how his smile has faltered greatly as he shreds open my torso slowly with his tools. He has certainly lost the level of enthusiasm he had earlier with his “game”. He sighs and seems to want to say something to me, before something clicks in that sick mind of his. He laughs loudly and it echoes through the room and through my audio receptors (of course he wasn’t kind enough to damage those for me).

“How foolish of me, of course you can’t talk back to me. I tore out your voice box cycles ago!” I grimace at the memory, and how I’ve long since stopped wanting to scream since it’d be useless. He gets up from his spot and twirls his tool before dropping it on the floor in a loud clatter. “Oh, the silence is starting to get to me clearly. Wait here for me, and don’t go anywhere. I’m going take a break from our game to hear some fresh screams from your men.”

Before he leaves, he strikes my helm with a hard blow, and everything starts to get blurry…thoughts popping into my mind all at once while everything starts to fade away…

How long does it take to send help…? My men are dying…Garrus-9 is falling…so why hasn’t anyone arrived? My mind is slipping as I watch through one optic my abuser’s escape into the blinding light that is outside this darkened room…my safety is only temporary and yet I shall treasure these painless moments for as long as I can-

***

“Hello there. I believe you have the answers I need.”

I twitch, feeling every limb I was supposed to have echo the feeling. Every sensory is heightened, every feeling fresh in my pain receptors as they scream over being nailed to the table. I am whole once more.

But only for a moment.


End file.
